


No Smoking

by FourCatProductions



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Ficlet, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Pre-Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 19:10:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13324635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FourCatProductions/pseuds/FourCatProductions
Summary: Rikke has fifteen minutes to herself before work, and she's determined to make the most of them.





	No Smoking

**Author's Note:**

> A little something I found on my Tumblr that I wrote a while ago for kicks, and thought I'd post it here. Quick jaunt into a modern AU with these two.

The numbers on Rikke’s watch face read 5:47 AM, glowing a sickly green. The watch was two minutes fast. The clock in her car was two minutes slow. It evened out. She parked against the side of the alleyway and got out of the car, patting down the pockets of her suit jacket. The cigarettes were a guilty habit she’d never quite been able to kick, but she had fifteen blissful minutes to herself before the day began, and she was going to make the most of them.

The alley was deserted, the ramp up to the back door obscured by a pair of half-full dumpsters. The door lead to the furnace room. You needed a key card to access it. A “No Smoking” sign was hammered firmly at eye level, paint flaking around it to reveal the rust beneath. She strolled up the ramp, leaned against the metal railing, and flicked her lighter open. The tip of the cigarette glowed, and she inhaled deeply. When she exhaled, the smoke curled out of her nostrils, noxious and heady.

It really was a disgusting habit. She’d quit for real after she finished this pack.

She took another drag.

Probably.

After all, she only smoked when she was stressed - which was almost always, but that was neither here nor there - and if she smoked occasionally before work, that was her prerogative. She had yet to meet someone in her position who didn’t smoke. Tullius didn’t, but she was half-convinced that he was some sort of bad-tempered automaton anyway.

No, the real problem was that she was forty years old and smoking in clearly designated smoke-free zones to feel like she had some semblance of control over her life. After all, what were they going to do if they caught her? She could probably light one up in Tullius’ office, if she were so inclined. The department would crumble without her.

And she still wasn’t in charge of it.

She scowled down at the cigarette, tip glowing red as a thin trail of smoke rose past her and drifted skyward. Ten years as Assistant Director of the FBI, and all she had to show for it was a list of glowing commendations that ultimately went nowhere, an empty apartment, and a brass plate on her office door with her first name misspelled. She didn’t have time for a houseplant, let alone a pet or a child. Her longest relationship was with Planet Fitness. She wasn’t unhappy, despite it all; she didn’t regret choosing to focus on her career. But she’d be a lot happier once she was running the place, instead of doing all the work and getting half the credit.

A car came rolling down the alleyway, breaking the cool gray stillness of the morning, and Rikke hurriedly scuffed out the cigarette on the heel of her shoe. She checked her watch, frowning. 5:52 AM. Nobody else ever parked in the alley, and certainly not this early. The car was one of those boxy little hybrids, painted sky blue with a pair of fuzzy pink dice hanging from the review mirror. Rikke grimaced. It probably had bumper stickers.

The door swung open, and the driver began to squeeze her way out of the front seat, pink-cheeked and flustered. She looked familiar, and it took Rikke a second to place her - Rhiannon, one of the new crop of interns. She was young, probably mid-twenties, and she was currently wrestling with an enormous styrofoam tray of coffee cups, skirt rucked up up around her thighs. Rikke suddenly felt a lot less grouchy. She went back down the ramp and knocked on the hood of the car. “Need a hand?”

“Assistant Director!” Rhiannon jumped, almost sloshing coffee down the front of her blouse. “No, that’s alright, let me just…”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re going to spill those.” Rikke took the tray and set it on top of the car. “And I’m not on the clock for another eight minutes. Just call me Rikke.”

“Um. Well. Thank you.” Rhiannon finally heaved herself out from the cramped interior, smoothing out her skirt. Her beige cardigan was as sensible and boring as her pale pink blouse, and she had a canvas messenger bag slung over one shoulder. She barely came up to Rikke’s collarbone, even in one-inch heels, and her auburn hair was protesting its imprisonment, curls escaping her bun to tickle her cheek. “Do you… would you mind? There’s more in the back.”

Two more enormous flats of coffee, to be exact. Rikke helped her pull them out, marveling at it all. “What did you do, buy enough for the entire department?”

“Yeah,” Rhiannon said. Rikke looked at her, startled, and she blushed. It clashed with her freckles. “Which reminds me.” She reached in through the driver’s side window and retrieved a cup from the drinkholder. “This is yours.” She pressed it into Rikke’s hands. Her nails were painted seafoam green, half the polish already chipped off. The coffee smelled heavenly. “Black, half cup of vanilla creamer, no sugar.”

Rikke sipped at it. It was the perfect temperature, and her residual irritation melted away. “Do you have everyone’s drink order memorized?”

“More or less.”

“That’s impressive. Thank you for the coffee.”

Rhiannon ducked her head, as if trying to dodge the compliment. “You’re welcome.”

The neck of her blouse shifted for a second, and Rikke caught a glimpse of something lacy and green, the same shade as the nail polish. She cleared her throat, heat creeping up the back of her neck.

“I have to ask. How did you know I’d be back here?”

“This is where you usually are in the morning, isn’t it?” Rhiannon chirped, oblivious to Rikke’s astonishment. She looked over at the door with its “No Smoking” sign, then back at Rikke. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything,” she whispered, and smiled. Up close, her eyes were hazel behind her thick-rimmed glasses. She had freckles on her eyelids. “We all have our coping mechanisms, right?”

“Right,” Rikke said, bewildered. She wondered what Rhiannon was coping with. Her watch beeped.

Rhiannon fished her phone out of the pocket of her cardigan, clicked the screen on, and gasped. “It’s six! Oh, I’m going to be late again - ”

She shoved it back in her pocket and stood on tiptoe, trying to stack the trays on top of each other, but Rikke stopped her. “Let me help with that.”

“You don’t have to. I can get it.”

Rikke very much doubted that, but all she said was, “It’s the least I can do. I don’t think you know how much I needed that coffee.”

She set her cup in one of the empty squares on the nearest tray, and Rhiannon smiled uncertainly.

“Well… if you’re sure…”

“Come on. We’ll be late together.”

She didn’t miss the way Rhiannon’s eyes widened when she hefted two of the trays like they weighed nothing, blush deepening to a dusky pink. Maybe that gym membership wasn’t such a waste after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Rhiannon's car absolutely has bumper stickers. At least one of them says "Save The Earth".


End file.
